


Parent Teacher Conference

by motherbearof3



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Elementary School, F/M, Family, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/pseuds/motherbearof3
Summary: Noah gets in trouble at school while Olivia is testifying in court so Rafael goes to talk to the teacher.





	Parent Teacher Conference

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theoofoof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoofoof/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for my friend and beloved beta, theoofoof. I was going to give her another chapter of Letters From Noah, because she keeps bugging me about it, but the Muse had other ideas.
> 
> Happy Birthday, dear! I hope you like this and don't mind I expanded a little on your plot.

“Barba.”

“You’re always going to answer the phone that way, aren’t you?”

The teasing voice in his ear made him smile. “I didn’t look at the screen. I’m very busy.”

“Doing what? Laundry or dinner?” Olivia laughed. She was still amused at how much he was enjoying playing ‘househusband’ since he returned from Florida and moved in with her and Noah. He was also continuing the work he started in Miami with the Catholic Diocese in New York City, but that wasn’t full time.

“Actually I was cleaning out your closet -- you know I still have clothes in storage, right? My God, Liv, when was the last time you cleaned this out? Did you know you have a uniform in here from before you were a detective?” He paused and exited the walk in to sit on the edge of the bed. “Wait. Why are you calling? I thought you were in court this afternoon?”

“I am. We’re on a brief recess. I think Stone is going to call me next. Listen, I got a voicemail from Noah’s teacher. He got in a fight at school today. She needs someone to pick him up and talk to her after school.”

“A fight? About what?” He was shocked. Noah was a soft spoken, kindhearted child. He couldn’t imagine him getting into a fight with anyone.

“I don’t know. She didn’t say. But I don’t know when we’re going to be done here. I need you to go talk to his teacher and get him,” Olivia said. “Lucy can’t do it. She said it had to be a parent.”

A parent. The word still gave him a warm feeling. When he was still in Florida, getting his head together in the aftermath of his own trial over baby Drew, Liv and Noah came to visit him and they went to Disney World. One night he and the boy got into a conversation about why he’d left and was he coming back and Noah confided in him that he wanted Barba to be his dad since he didn’t have one. Rafael was touched and overjoyed and it just cemented the feelings he had about his and Olivia’s relationship.

“Okay. Will the teacher be okay with me? I mean, have you changed the paperwork at school?” He asked, looking at his watch to check the time. There was less than an hour until school let out.

“No, not yet. They know who you are. Take the guardianship papers with you think you need them. You’re a lawyer, Rafa, you can handle it if there’s a question. But I don’t think there will be.” He heard Stone’s voice in the background. “I gotta go. It was probably nothing. You know how school’s overreact. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Barba looked toward the closet and sighed. That project would have to wait. Right now he needed to shower and find some more parental looking clothes than the almost worn through in places jeans and T-shirt he was currently wearing. Thirty minutes later, he was making his way to Noah’s school dressed in a pair of khaki pants, crisp white dress shirt and navy blazer; no tie. If all his suspenders weren’t still in storage, he’d have added a pair for confidence. He was just grateful the only dress belt he owned -- purchased specifically for the very first case he had with Liv, he remembered with a grin as he slid it through the loops -- had gone to Florida and back with him.

At the school he signed in at the main office and took a seat until the dismissal bell rang. Then he made his way to Noah’s classroom, swimming upstream against the schools of children going the opposite direction toward freedom. When he reached the door he could see his son through the window slumped glumly at a desk, the beginning of a bruise showing on one of his small cheeks. _Time to parent_ , he thought to himself and reached for the doorknob. Opening the door, he stepped inside and closed it behind himself. Both Noah and the young woman seated at the desk in front of the blackboard looked up. She smiled. Noah looked surprised to see him instead of his mother.

“Mr. Barba?” She stood and extended her hand. “I’m Ruth French. Nice to meet you. Noah’s speaks very highly of you.”

The young woman had a delightful English accent, making him wonder if she had come to the U.S. as a nanny before becoming a teacher.

“We’ve heard a lot about you as well,” he replied shaking her hand and smiling. “Sounds like Noah has a new favorite teacher.”

“Well, I might not be his favorite after today,” she said. “Please have a seat.”

Rafael sat down in the chair she indicated. “Yes, I understand there was a bit of trouble today.” He glanced over at Noah, who was now slumped in his chair again. Ms. French nodded.

“Noah, do you want to tell Mr. Barba what happened?”

The boy sat up straight in his chair and said angrily, “He’s my dad, not Mr. Barba!”

“Noah!” Rafael said sharply. He’d never heard the boy speak so disrespectfully before. His son looked about to cry at the reprimand, so he softened his tone and motioned for him to come to him. “Come here, _mijo._ Come tell me what this is all about.”

Noah stood from his desk and approached slowly. When he reached his side, his father pulled him to sit on his knee and put his arm around his small shoulders. He may be in first grade, but was still a little boy. The gentle gesture was the child’s undoing. He flung his arms around Rafael’s neck and buried his face in the crook of his neck, starting to cry. The two adults exchanged glances and let him go for a moment.

Once the outburst was over, he repeated what he’d said before, “Tell me what this is all about, Noah.” The boy mumbled something into his neck. “What’s that?”

Noah sat back and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“Ah!” Rafael pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Here, use this, please.”

Once his nose was properly wiped the boy looked at the floor and repeated, “Tommy said you weren’t my dad.”

“Of course I’m your dad,” Barba replied.

“That’s what Noah told him,” Ms. French joined the conversation. “But Tommy was insistent that you weren’t and it turned into a more heated conversation and before I realized it, it got physical, which is why I had to call Ms. Benson. I’ve already spoken with Tommy’s mother.”

“But why did you hit him, Noah? What did Tommy say that would make you hit him? I assume then he hit you back?” Rafael gently ran his thumb over the bruise that had darkened as they sat there.

“He said you weren’t my dad because -- because you and mom aren’t married! He said you could only be my dad if you were married. But he’s wrong, isn’t he?” Noah’s blue eyes searched his for assurance that his classmate was misinformed.

His father hugged him to his chest. “Of course he’s wrong!”

“I knew it,” the six year old smiled happily. “But you are mom are going to get married, right?” Barba knew that question was going to come up eventually. He just didn’t expect it so soon after the three of them started living as a family.

“That’s something we can talk about at home,” Rafael told him. He turned to Noah’s teacher. “I assume there’s some kind of punishment for fighting?”

“Yes, both Noah and Tommy will be in for recess for two weeks. And I’ll probably have them write some lines as well,” Ms. French said with a wink.

“After your mom and I discuss it, there may be something at home too. Because hitting is never the way to solve a problem, Noah.”  
  
“I know.” The boy hung his head. “Can we go now?”

“Yes, I think we have this all sorted,” said his teacher.

Barba slid the boy off his lap and stood, keeping his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ms. French. Hopefully the next time I’m in your classroom it will be for a more pleasant reason.”

“I agree, Mr. Barba. Open House is in a few weeks. Noah has quite a bit of artwork that will be displayed,” she told him.

“Olivia and I will see you then,” he assured her. “Come on, _mijo_. It’s spaghetti night.”

The boy perked up at those words. “Bye, Ms. French.”

“Goodbye, Noah. See you tomorrow. Don’t forget your backpack,” his teacher pointed to cubbies at the back of the classroom. He ran back to get it and returned to take Rafael’s hand after the man relieved him of the bag.

She watched father and son leave her classroom and smiled, wondering how soon it would be before she saw a ring on Lieutenant Benson’s finger.


End file.
